Dont be dead Would you do that, just for me? Just stop it stop this
by That Potterwholockian Phangirl
Summary: Dialogue!fic. After "The Riechenback Fall." Can't say much else without giving it away, but, just as a forewarning, I cry every time I reread this. I cried when I wrote this. If you're easily upset/easily triggered, I would not recomend you read this story. Otherwise, feel free to make yourself cry, I can't control what you do to your body.


_"No, please, there's just one more thing, mate, one more thing: one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don_ _'t … be … dead. Would you do …? Just for me, just stop it. Stop this."_

∞ sempre ∞

"Sherlock, please. You have to tell him you're alive. You don't have to let him see you, just a note or something."

"I can't, Lestrade. You know that. He can't know, for his own safety."

"If you keep this up much longer, you won't have to worry about Moran killing John."

"He's a soldier."

"I know, but I'm not sure if that will be enough for much longer. I've tried _so_ hard, as have Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Molly, Mike, and even Sally. It's not enough; _we're_ not enough. We can't save him anymore, if we ever could. You're his only hope. Please."

"You think I like this? You think this is _easy_ for me? You think I **want** to do this to him? You think I don't _**hate **_myself every day for it?! But what is, is. If he were to get hurt because _I_ revealed myself in a moment of weakness…"

"I know: you'd never forgive yourself. I'd just hate to see what would happen to you if Moran isn't the one who kills John."

∞ sempre ∞

"Sherlock-"

"Save it, Mycroft. I got the lecture from Lestrade a few weeks ago."

"I _was_ going to ask you how the hunt was going."

"Oh… Well, I've gotten everyone of any threat except Sebastian Moran, Moriarty's second in command."

"How close?"

"Getting there. Unfortunately, he's hidden himself well, and there's not much I can do but wait for him to make a mistake."

"How likely is that?"

"Not as likely as I would like."

"How long?"

"Month? Months?"

"Oh god."

"What?"

"I'm afraid we don't have that long, Sherlock."

"Long till what?"

"How can I help, Sherlock? What do you need to make this faster?"

"_Mycroft-_"

"I'm serious, Sherlock. I will get you anything. Anything you need."

"Why the sudden change?"

"Because, not only do I actually like John, but I don't know how I would- or if I could even- deal with you."

"Deal with me?"

"You may have yourself fooled, but you can't fool me. Anything, Sherlock."

"Alright, Mycroft

∞ sempre ∞

_*bang*_

"John, dear, are you alright?

"John? Oh–oh my god."

∞ sempre ∞

"Mycroft Holmes—Mrs. Hudson-Mrs. Hudson, slow down.—What?—John, in the hospital?—Oh dear. Are you sure?—Alright. I'll call Greg, and we'll meet you at the hospital—Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I will see you soon."

∞ sempre ∞

"Lestrade.—Oh god, Mycroft. You're sure?—Sorry, sorry, of course you're sure.—Oh gosh. That poor woman has had to deal with so much from those two. I don't know how she deals with them.—Yeah, I know, Mycroft. We all do. Which hospital?—I'll be there as soon as I can.—I know; it's time."

∞ sempre ∞

"How stable is his condition, Doctor?"

"For the moment, he's stabilized. It could, at any time, deteriorate, sir."

"Thank you. I have something I must attend to, but if there is any change, you are to contact me immediately. In the mean time, Detective Inspector Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson are the only ones permitted to visit him until his next-of-kin arrives. Understood?"

"Understood, Mr. Holmes."

"Good. Thank you."

∞ sempre ∞

"Greg, I have to go find Sherlock. I don't want to leave, but the Doctor has specific instructions. Can you hold down the fort for me?"

"Of course, Mycroft. Go. Do what you need to do. Fix this. We're counting on you."

"I'll try."

"Go! I'll talk to you later."

"Yes, alright."

∞ sempre ∞

"Sherlock! Update, **now**!"

"What happened, Mycroft?"

"_Now!_"

"I'm so **close**! So bloody close, yet I can't get the bastard!"

"Time frame."

"**I don't** **know**!"

"Sherlock—Oh god, Sherlock.

"John. He–he's in the hospital. He–tried to kill himself. Mrs. Hudson found him in the flat. The doctors, they don't know if he will pull through. It's too early to tell."

"Oh god—_John_."

"I know."

"How. How could—"

"Sherlock."

"_How could I have let this happen!?"_

__"Now, Sherlock—"

"No, Mycroft. It _is_ my fault! It's all my fault. I should have listened to you and Lestarde. I'm such an **idiot**! Oh go. What have I done? Oh god. Oh god. Oh go—"

"**Sherlock Holmes**! Pull yourself together. You're no use to anyone as a driveling mess. Finish this. It's the only way."

"But—"

"**GO!** Do what you have to do. Greg and I can look after him in the meantime."

∞ sempre ∞

"Mycroft! Thank god! He's gotten worse. They've had to take him into surgery."

"Why wasn't I informed?"

"Too much chaos. I was about to call you. Sherlock–?"

"Not good. Not only is he a mess now, but he still doesn't know when he'll get Moran."

"I'm wondering if it's worth it."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe Sherlock should just come home."

"But Moran–"

"Sherlock isn't close enough, is he?"

"—no."

"Perhaps Sherlock should come back, now, while John's in the hospital. Draw Moran out."

"I don't know…"

"What do you suggest then? Because what we're doing now isn't working."

"Alright. I'll try to convince him."

∞ sempre ∞

"**WHAT?**"

"I said, 'It's time for you to come home.'"

"But–"

"Look, Sherlock, what we're doing now isn't working. Maybe you'll be able to draw out Moran this way."

"Or put a bullet in John's head."

"Well he's so close to dying anyway! Would you rather be with him or out here?"

"With him."

"It's time to come home."

∞ sempre ∞

"Oh god. John."

"We've gotten him stable again, Mr. Holmes. The bullet hit an organ somewhere we initially missed. It's been fixed."

"Incompetent imbeciles."

"Please ignore my dearest brother."

"It's quite alright, sir. I've had much more thrown at me for less. Should I…?"

"Yes, please. You and I can discuss what has been done to Dr. Watson in more detail somewhere else."

∞ sempre ∞

"Oh John, why? Why did you do this to yourself? I don't understand."

"He can't hear you, you know."

"Lestrade."

"Sherlock—"

"I don't want your pity."

"Well good for you, because I'm not bloody giving it away. Do you really not understand?"

"No…?"

"He loves you, has done for a long while. He's wholly dependent on you. You left him, alone, with not even a glimmer of hope for your return. He was _heartbroken_. John Watson wears many things well, but grief's not one of them. He couldn't handle it, drowned in it. He hallucinated you, under and not under the influence of narcotics. He was stuck in a vacuum of time, unable to move on. You left a gaping hole in his heart, one no person could ever fill, so he tried to fill it with other things, some illegal, some not, so that he could forget. This whole thing has been a disaster. He has been so depressed. Nothing any one tried helped; we were useless. I _loathe_ myself for watching him suffer the equivalent of a thousand deaths every day **knowing** you're alive. It's been torture, for him and us."

"I–he lo–I don't—he doesn't—we're just fr—I can't—_**John**_. Oh John. My friend, my soldier, my blogger, my John. I'm so sorry. _I'm so sorry._ I was so blind; why couldn't I **see**? I've got glasses now, promise. You'll never be alone again. Never, even if you want to be. I was lost before you. I was so lost without my conductor of light. You are irreplaceable. I will always be with you, that, you can count on."

∞ sempre ∞

"Sherlock"

"Huh—where am I? Where's John? What's going on?"

"_You_ are in the hospital waiting room. _John_, is in surgery. Again."

"Why? I thought they fixed what was wrong before."

"I don't know. Obviously not, though. I'm going to be blunt: this doesn't look good, at all."

"Don't say that, Mycroft!"

"I know it's not what you want to hear, but it needed to be said. you have to face the facts: he may not pull through this time."

"What do you mean, _this time_?"

"This isn't John's first suicide attempt, surely you knew that already?"

"No, no I _didn't_. **I** only know what **you** choose to tell me."

"Oh. Well, a couple of months back, when you were chasing that one operative in Russia, John tried to kill himself. Pills. Lestrade found him passed out at the apartment. He was in the hospital for under a week, and his condition was no where near as bad as it is now. At the time, you seemed so close that I thought it better to let you finish, and by the time it was clear you weren't as close as we thought, it seemed pointless to mention it.

"_It seemed pointless_. **Nothing **concerning John is _**pointless**_."

"I am sorry. I realize, now, that I should have told you. I was foolish of me to think it was unimportant."

"Damn straight. We could have avoided this."

"I know. I deeply regret it. If he were to die, I would feel horribly responsible and remorseful."

"Yes, rightfully so."

"Sherlock."

"And that is why we hope for the best."

"Oh, yes, of course."

∞ sempre ∞

"It's been too long, Lestrade."

"_I know!_ You're driveling isn't helping. You're not the only one counting the seconds."

"Right."

"I feel guilty, you know. I was sitting with him, knowing the _one thing_ that would have helped him, but I couldn't say a word. It tears me up inside. I wish I had told him."

"I think I love him."

"…well, you wouldn't be the only one."

"No, not like that, proper love."

"Oh, _oh! _Gosh. If only he could hear _that_. He would pull through, just for that, you know?"

"Yeah, I think so."

∞ sempre ∞

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Holmes. We did all we could, but it wasn't enough. My condolences."

"I know, but my brother won't be so understanding, or reasonable, so I would suggest you to clear the area. He has been known to punch, scream, and throw things when provoked."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

∞ sempre ∞

"When can I see him?"

"Sherlock—"

"What was wrong this time?"

"Sherlock—"

"What did they miss?"

"Sherlock—"

"How did they—"

"**SHERLOCK!**"

"Thank you, Gregory. Sherlock, the doctors did all they could—"

"No, no, no, don't say that."

"He didn't make it."

"No, nope, nope no. Do. Not. Say. That."

"Sherlock, I'm sorry."

"_John._"

∞ sempre ∞

"You should go to the funeral."

"I can't."

"Why ever not?"

"BecauseI'mgoingtocryandIdon'twantohumiliatemyselfinfronofeveryone."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

"No, not how it works, Sherlock. Either you give me a proper reason (which, to my knowledge, there isn't one) or I'm dragging you with me"

"I don't want to make a bloody fool of myself, alright?"

"And however do you think you'll do that?"

"I'm going to cry, in front of all those people, humiliating myself."

"Under no circumstances would crying at a funeral _humiliate _you. Alright, that's settled, you're going. It'd be good for people to see you're human."

∞ sempre ∞

"You're going to make a speech, right?"

"What, why would I do that, Lestrade?"

"Because you were his best friend? Because that's what friends do? Because he loved you? Because he deserves it? Because you loved him?"

"Love."

"Right, sorry."

"Nothing I could say would do him even an ounce of justice. John Hamish Watson cannot be summed up in mere mortal words. He's more than that."

"I know that, but you should try your bloody hardest; he deserves that, if nothing else."

"He deserves everything."

∞ sempre ∞

"Yeah, um, for those of you who don't know, I was John's best friend (although how you could claim to know him and not know that is a mystery). Of all the seven billion people on this planet I could have had as my best friend, I could only ever want John. I didn't deserve his friendship, but he gave his loyalty freely and openly. I'm impossible to handle, and if it had been any other person who chose to share a flat with me, they would have up and left within the first week. John just laughed, helped clean up the mess I inevitably made, and moved on. I really didn't deserve his forgiveness, either. John was the most courageous person I have ever been luck enough to know. He wouldn't _hesitate_ to take a bullet for a friend. He was always a soldier at heart that way. He funny, intelligent, and— you know what? Sod this! Sod all of it! Anyone who knew John knows they were blessed, and if they don't, they never deserved even a minute of his time. No combination of words from this world could ever come close to depicting John, and maybe that's the way it should be."

∞ sempre ∞

"Hey Sherlock, you're speech was amazing."

"No it wasn't. It was the worst thing said by anyone ever."

No, really, I'd go as far as saying yours was the best. Want to know why? Because yours was true and honest. All the rest were so fake. You got to the truth and the heart of the matter. Everyone else claimed to have known him well, yet still tried, and failed, to describe him with fancy adjectives and irrelevant character attributes. You _knew_ him. You knew how utterly indescribable he was, and you told everyone that. Anyone who thought they could sum up John in words didn't know him at all."

"Oh, I see what you mean."

"Thank you."

"What for, Lestrade?"

"For doing him proud."

"Oh, you're welcome."

"You want me to… leave you alone?"

"Yes, please, if you don't mind."

"Take all the time in the world. I'll keep everyone else away."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

∞ sempre ∞

"Oh, John. Why did you have to leave me in this way? Why didn't you tell me you needed me? I would have come if you had called. Still will. I love you. I don't know how I missed it. I love you so much it hurts. I wish I had told you. Maybe that would have stopped this. You did so much for me, John, too much. You gave true friendship to a man who never had a friend in his life. You showed me how to be a friend. You showed me how to be, somewhat, compassionate. You showed me how to love.  
"_Please, just one more thing, one more thing: one more miracle, John, for me. Don't … be … dead. Would you do that? Just for me, just stop it. Stop this._"


End file.
